


Don't Dream

by mei (dspd)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Louisiana Voodoo, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dspd/pseuds/mei
Summary: What starts out as isolated nightmares quickly morphs into a ship-wide pandemic. When conventional medicine fails to cure his patients Dr. Leonard McCoy must return to his roots to save his friends.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> rated T+ for the one scene with heavy petting right at the beginning and some mild gore near the end

_ Christine shifted as he caressed her face with one hand, body pressing her against the bulkhead. Dark eyes bored through her, exposing her, laying her bare as she grabbed for him, fingernails digging in as they dug into the expanse of his back, leaving angry marks behind. _

_ He reared back, gasping before diving back in, teeth catching on her lip and pulling as he shifted, grasping her legs and lifted her up effortlessly. _

_ She squeaked and wrapped her legs around his waist, skirt riding up, and he thrust against her impatiently. _

_ The feel of him invaded her, clouded her mind, intoxicating and heady. She let her eyes shut as her head fell back with a dull thud against the wall, stifling a moan as his fingers slid upwards, slowing as they lingered on her jaw before sliding up her cheek, coming to a rest by her temple. A fizzle of fear shot through her. Was he about to-? _

_ All thought flew from her head as his mouth descended on her neck. _

_ “Oh!” she cried, trembling as his lips and tongue and teeth tugged on something low in her stomach. “Oh, don’t stop. Don’t stop!” _

_ He laughed low and hard, teeth scraping along her neck. It felt exquisite. Just this side of pain. She didn’t know she liked that. If it was him, she’d like anything he wanted. _

_ She encouraged him to continue, one hand sliding up to cradle his head and keep his head there. _

_ The fingers on her face moved over the meld spots, lingering for a moment before moving away again. Slender, captivating fingers slipped over her eyes, then he bit hard. _

_ She cried out, pain lancing through the fog. _

_ He bit again, harder, and she couldn’t help the small scream torn from her throat. She felt a drop of blood roll down her neck. It throbbed, and she managed to slide her hands between them, pushing hard. _

_ It was like trying to move a mountain. Impossible. _

_ “Spock – “ She managed to rasp out before he wrapped a hand around her neck and squeezed. She found purchase in his hair, pulling hard and he growled, the hand around her throat tightening. She bucked wildly, trying to throw him off. _

_ Her body was screaming for air. _

_ In the darkness of his hand, she could only feel him as he licked the blood from her skin before biting again. This time she felt each point of his teeth as they slowly sank through layers of muscle. Her hands scrambled uselessly, nails scraping against smooth skin. _

_ Just before she blacked out he released her and she caught a glimpse as she collapsed. _

_ That was not Spock. _

Christine jerked awake and lay there panting. She lifted a trembling hand and gingerly touched her neck, patting and then prodding at the still tender skin.

It had felt so real.

She lunged for the light by her bed and sat in the middle, knees drawn to her chest, surrounded by a feeble circle of light until her alarm trilled the beginning of the day.

***

“Come on Spock, it was great!”

Jim elbowed Spock good-naturedly as they walked into Medbay, grinning back at him.

“On the contrary, Captain, you have fractured your wrist, as I warned you would beforehand.”

Spock nodded as they stopped before Bones, falling into parade rest as Jim held out his arm. Jim grinned at Bones, ignoring the way his friend scowled at him.

“Totally worth it. I got the flower Sulu wanted.”

Bones transferred his scowl to Jim's arm. Prodding it a couple of times, probably for the satisfaction of hearing Jim yelp when he found the spot.

Jim grimaced and kept his eyes on Spock as Bones took out his tricorder and began scanning.

“Did you find that Pergium deposit you were looking for?”

Spock inclined his head. “Yes. It was precisely 432 feet below your acrobatic jump. If your jump had been 0.25 centimeters shorter you would have fallen to it.”

Jim swallowed and glanced away, guiltily.

“Okay, you made your point. No more daring stunts.”

One eyebrow rose.

“Alright! Stop looking at me like that! No more stupid dares.” Jim threw his hands up, showing all ten fingers, “see? No crossed fingers.”

The other brow rose. Spock looked thoroughly unconvinced. Jim let out a little groan, distracted by the throbbing that settled into his arm as Bones pulled him over to a device and shoved his lower arm into it, activating it with a few jabs.

Bones turned to him. “I thought you -”

Jim cut him off waving to Christine across the room. “Christine! How are you today?”

She looked up, smiling. “I fine, Jim, ho-” she stopped, blood draining from her face, and dropped the padd she was holding.

Jim looked down. His shirt was whole, no blood. She wasn’t reacting to him, then. He followed her gaze over his shoulder. Spock?

She cleared her throat. “I apologize, Captain. I didn't sleep well last night.” She bent down and picked up her padd, walking past quickly, head bent to avoid eye contact.

He watched her leave before peeking at Spock. “What did you do, Spock?”

The Vulcan’s head was tilted as he stared at the exit Christine used. “I do not know, Captain.”

***

_ Scotty worked feverishly, sweat beading his brow as he raced against time to speed up the decontamination process and free Jim. _

_ Spock was speaking quietly through the glass, his face open, Human. _

_ Jim murmured something, voice failing him at the end and Spock finished the sentence for him. _

_ Out of the corner of his eye, Scotty saw Uhura skid to a stop, as Spock lifted his head and roared. _

_ Scotty gasped as the computer chimed completion. _

_ “Sir. It's finished!” _

_ He looked up. Jim was alone, slumped against the glass, mouth opening and closing as he gasped for breath. _

_ Something was wrong. This wasn't how it had gone. Jim had died already. Scotty shook his head to clear it, unnaturally fuzzy. _

_ He looked down at the controls. The edges trembled and straightened out into a new configuration. _

_ “Scotty!” A scream echoed from behind the warp core. Scotty raced around it as the lights in the engine room flickered before blackness settled. _

_ “Sc-” a cough interrupted. “Scotty?” Jim's voice was raspy, weak. _

_ He swallowed hard. Something felt wrong. _

_ “Scotty? Where are you?”. The voice was a little louder. _

_ Scotty crept around the warp core, instinct telling him to keep a distance. _

_ Lit from behind, Jim was standing tall and strong somehow, his front and face shadowed. His shadow stretched and grew as it fell across the floor, fading into the surrounding dark. He didn’t move as he spoke again. _

_ “Scotty, can you please let me out?” _

_ Scotty didn't move. The voice seemed to be coming from behind Jim's outline. There was a lump in his throat. _

_ “Please? Scotty, please! I'm better now. I promise.” _

_ Scotty was frozen to the spot. That wasn't Jim. It felt different. Alien. Scary. _

_ Hungry. _

_ Scotty tried to move but couldn't even lift a finger. He could only watch as Not Jim lifted a shadowy hand and placed in on the glass. _

***

Scotty dropped his tray down next to Leonard with a thump, the fork jumping off the plate onto the floor. He crouched down, stretching for the utensil as he cursed in Gaelic under his breath, managing to bang his head as he came back out.

Leonard grabbed his own fork and cup of coffee before anything else could happen, waiting for Scotty to sit down with a thump. “Rough night?”

Scotty rubbed his face roughly, fingers pushing hard into the muscles along his temples before dropping. “Aye, McCoy, you have no idea.”

Leonard did a double-take. “Good Lord, man. You look like hell. Did you actually sleep?”

Scotty glared, bloodshot eyes casting a slightly diabolical effect. “Of course I did. Until I woke up.” His face dropped back into the lines of exhaustion that startled Leonard in the first place.

“It wasn’t a good sleep, that’s for sure.”

Leonard snorted. “I can see that. Come see me before your shift starts. I’ll give you a little pick me up.”

Scotty nodded gratefully as Leonard stood, draining his coffee before leaving. Just before Leonard left he looked back. Scotty’s head was in one hand and he stared morosely at the blackish glob of something he was stabbing repeatedly.

Leonard didn't think Scotty looked any better an hour after breakfast when he shuffled into Medbay.

“Are you sure this is just one night of bad sleep?” Leonard asked, eyes glued to the bizarre reading his tricorder was spitting out.

“Yeah, 'm sure,” Scotty mumbled as he leaned over, elbows resting on knees and head hanging.

“Hmm,” Leonard snagged Chapel's tricorder as she walked past, frown deepening as the second reading verified the first's results.

“Well,” Leonard huffed, “Mr. Montgomery, this is is unusual.” He tapped screen attached to the bed Scotty was sitting on, pulling up the troublesome results.

“Here, here, and here,” Leonard's hands hovered over the screen as he spoke, “are the reasons for why you're feeling this way. It's more than a poor night of sleep. Your hormones are out of balance, you have acute adrenal fatigue, and you also have some internal bruising in your chest that I'll need to take a closer look at - so shirt off. I'll be right back with something to help.”

Leonard walked to the storage cabinet, keeping an eye on Scotty as he retrieved several small vials and a hypospray. Scotty was moving slowly, obviously stiff, and nearly fell over as he struggled to get his undershirt off.

Leonard returned to his side, carefully setting his materials down before prodding at Scotty's torso, mentally noting where Scotty winced. His fingers found mirroring scabs between ribs eight and nine on his back, about three inches from the spine.

Leonard looked down. Bruising. Two blossoms of bluish-purple just above the kidneys. “What the hell?”

He looked closer. The scabs were perfectly circular, the edges slightly raised. “How long have you had these bruises on your back?”

Scotty put a hand back to touch one, “I dinna know. doc. I dinna notice anything.”

“You didn’t fall into anything in Engineering?” Leonard pressed. “Maybe from crawling around in the Jeffery tubes?”

“I cannae ken anything.”

Scotty was listing. “Okay, I need to do a few more tests, Scotty.” Leonard grabbed him before he could fall all the way over. “Bad news is you can’t go to sleep during them. The good news is that when you’re done I’m sending you to bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

Ten minutes later, Leonard was frowning again, poring over the readings as one of the nurses followed Scotty back to his room.

***

_ Bones looked down as Joanna tugged on his sleeve, little fingers pulling. She grinned up at him and bounced a little. _

_ “Can we go to the park, daddy? I wanna do the swings!” _

_ Bones smiled down at her, his heart full to bursting as he said, “sure honey, we can do whatever you want. _

_ The elevator doors slid open and they stepped out. Joanna's hand slid down to catch his own and she impatiently pulled him forward. _

_ Bones couldn't believe how lucky he was to end up with this little angel. He stepped out and the elevators slid shut, pausing for a moment when the floor seemed to tremble. _

_ They were halfway across the entrance hall when he saw the ship careening towards them. _

_ He grabbed Joanna and wrapped himself around her just before the floor crumbled away beneath him. _

Leonard was halfway out of his bed when he realized he had been dreaming. He scooted back against the headboard, rubbing his face.

He didn’t know when he finally fell back asleep, but he knew he had slept through his alarm when Christine commed him asking if he was okay. He managed to drag himself out of bed and halfheartedly drank half a cup of coffee while getting dressed, logging into his station over an hour late. He gritted his teeth to get through his morning, snapping at several Medbay staff who came by. He might have felt guilty for reducing Ensign Miller to tears but in his defense, she had asked possibly the stupidest question possible.

At least no one else tried to talk to him before he could sequester himself in his office during lunch, using the replicator to grab another coffee and a meal substitute shake so he didn’t have to hear himself chew. Inside he tapped the controls, turning the glass opaque black and lights to 5%.

Blessed silence.

For one moment at least. Then Christine came sweeping in, holding her tricorder aloft and arching a brow, a skill she’d practiced until she could convey as much as Spock.

He hated it.

She cut him off before he could do more than open his mouth. “No, Leonard. You’re getting a check-up.”

He glared and crossed his arms in front of himself. She rolled her eyes.

“Don’t even try that on me. You know it doesn’t work. Frankly, you look rather hideous today.”

He huffed a tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe pretending today wasn’t happening. “Fine, get it over with.”

She looked him up and down, amusement warring with disapproval. “Good Lord, Leonard. You’re a grown man. Act like it.” She stepped around the desk and began the scan.

He glared at her petulantly, knowing he looks just like Joanna during her pouts and not caring one bit.

“If I want to wallow, I’ll damn well wallow,” he bit out, sharp and acidic.

“Not in this Medbay, you don’t.” She finished reading the information the tricorder printed out.

“Well, your hormones are more than slightly unbalanced and you’re dehydrated. Drink your shake and I’ll be right back.”

He sipped it reluctantly as she left and returned with water and a hypo. Part of him wanted to throw the shake at her.

Leonard froze for a moment, shaken by the ferocity of his thoughts.  _ Where the hell had that come from? _ He closed his eyes and took a few long, slow breathes in and out, trying to calm himself.

The hypo took him by surprise.

He stifled a hiss as his eyes flew open. Christine stared down, grinning. “Serves you right.”

As equilibrium returned, he stretched his neck and arms, feeling a tingle race through his body.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, “and sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”

She hummed as she leaned against his desk, fingers drumming on the edge. “Really? I do.”

When she didn’t elaborate, he swept a hand out, inviting her to continue, “and? Care to elaborate?”

She smiled, “The same thing that happened to Mr. Scott. And Lt. Riley. And me. And about a dozen other officers.”

“Poor REM sleep, huh? I’ll have to ask Scotty to check the lighting.” Bones looked up at her, “wait, you had a nightmare?”

She jerked her head in an approximation of a nod, smile dimming for a moment. “It was...unsettling.”

He nodded slowly. Unsettling was a mild way to describe it.

Leonard remembered her accident, and how she had hurried away from Jim and Spock. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, “I scanned myself right afterward and used a hypo. No nightmares since, thankfully.”

He sighed loudly and gathered himself, preparing to go back out. “Well, I ain’t gonna talk about mine, miss nosey.” She snorted, rolling her eyes and he winked back.

“Let’s get back to work.”

As he followed her out, he couldn’t help but think about what she said. Fifteen people with in the last couple weeks with the same complaints. If there were physical signs such as welts or hives, he’d say there was something goin’ round.

***

_ Pavel stared at the padd, knuckles white around the stylus. The problem wasn’t that hard. Simple. He remembered seeing it in his math homework when he was 8. So simple. _

_ “It’s okay, Mr. Chekov, you can do it,” she spoke soothingly next to him, reaching out to help him relax his grip on the thin metal in his hand. _

_ Pavel glared down at the numbers. He remembered it. Why couldn’t he understand it now? _

_ “Let’s go through it again.” The woman’s voice grated on his skin, peeling away at the little patience he clung to. “Let’s clear the screen and start from the beginning.” _

***

Jim waved at Chekov and Sulu in the mess hall, hoping they would be able to help him shorten the long faces sitting with him.  _ Jeez, he was starting to talk like Bones. _ Chekov’s face was pale and drawn.

Jim grinned up at them as they approached.

“ - Bay, Pavel. You need - “

They walked straight past, arguing quietly. Well. Now Jim was had to know what was going on.

***

Leonard entered his quarters. Two fistfights today. Two! Those asshats in Security were acting like dumb thugs during training. Not to mention the dozen little injuries that Medbay cataloged. Ensign Tomlinson burned the back of his arm in the Jeffries tubes, Lieutenant Palamas ate a meal that she knew would send her into anaphylactic shock, and Uhura managed to shock herself into sinus tachycardia while adjusting her comms. Stupid mistakes, all of them.

Except for those overstimulated testosterone bags. Those ones were just stupid.

Just thinking about it was raising his blood pressure.

He needed to calm down.

He needed to check something out.

Leonard settled in the center of his bed, the bottoms of his feet together, knees out and resting against the comforter, hip tilted so he could sit tall and relaxed. He placed his hands palm up, resting them on his knees, letting his fingers curl naturally.

“Lights to 20%.”

Leonard let his eyes slide closed in the darkened room, focusing inward, feeling his ribs expand and contract as he slowed his breathing.

_ In for four. Hold. Out for four. Repeat. _

He imagined the stresses of the day, each little niggling worry rising to the surface of his skin as he breathed out and sliding away as he breathed in.

_ In for four. Hold. Out for four. Repeat. _

His mind was floating, relaxed in the stillness of his head. He gathered his energy and spread outwards. As his awareness spread, he built a silvery copy of the Enterprise in his mind. Spock was at his computer terminal. Jim was sparring in the gym. The activity registered in his mind but he ignored it, choosing instead to read the energy.

_ In for four. Hold. Out for four. Repeat. _

He pushed a few moments more, keeping himself thrown wide, then gathered himself back in, feeling a frown forming as he considered what he had seen.

_ In for four. Hold. Out for four. Repeat. _

He shifted, eyes still closed, feeling for tension and releasing it one muscle at a time. When his mind had settled back into his body he stretched, moving slowly, languorously. His skin itched as it readjusted. His body always felt small, tight and cramped after unfurling himself like that.

Leonard gave one final, whole-body stretch and came to a decision.

It was time to try a nontraditional treatment.

***

_ Spock felt fear shoot through him the moment he realized what was happening. _

_ Something was wrong with him. He had been forgetting things. He didn’t know how or why. Even his internal chronometer had malfunctioned on his day off last week. He had woken up two hours late. _

_ He had set an alarm on his terminal every day since. _

_ This morning he found two reports that he swore he had submitted, sitting in the terminal in his quarters, the cursor still blinking. Later, during Alpha Shift, the captain waved him over, leaning over to speak quietly once Spock was near. _

_ “Mr. Spock, Yorktown reports that you did not submit your paperwork after the last mission on Deltarius VI. Is everything alright?” His face was concerned. So expressive and Human. For a moment Spock yearned to be that open, emotions free to come and go. _

_ Shame welled up inside, dark red and hot. A Human emotion. Spock wrestled for control, his Vulcan half fighting voraciously, devouring the feeling and channeling it into his mental controls. _

_ “Mr. Spock?” While he had been focusing inwards Jim had leaned forward, peering up at his half-hidden face. _

_ Spock stood tall, hands behind his back, eyes staring the bridge of the Captain’s nose. He couldn’t make himself look into his eyes. “I apologize, Captain. I sent the report in before my shift started this morning. I wanted to look at it one more time before submitting it.” _

_ Jim smiled, “Oh. Okay, then. I’m glad it’s nothing else. Unless,” his face shifted, face falling into a more mischievous grin, “is there anything you’d like to share?” _

_ Spock recognized the invitation but couldn’t bring himself to share his unVulcanlike behavior. _

_ “No, sir. If I may return to my station?” Jim nodded and Spock returned to his station. _

_ Later, in the privacy of his quarters, Spock meditated. He was compelled to run through the events of the last few days, nitpicking small moments where his superior mind had failed him. His internal clock. Forgetting the reports. Missing his weekly dinner plans with Nyota. Leaving a dirty workstation in Lab 13. Forgetting that ensign’s name in Engineering... _

_ Spock froze, even suspending breathing in shock. When had he last recalled a memory of his mother? _

_ Spock frantically searched his memory banks, destroying his neatly ordered storage in his attempt to find a memory, chest heaving and pulse hammering as he lost control over his respiratory system. _

_ Nothing. _

_ Nothing. _

**_NOTHING._ **

_ Spock collapsed with a cry, Vulcan pride forgotten as he mourned his mother a second time. _

Spock woke smoothly, transitioning from sleep to wakefulness between one breath and the next. His internal chronometer told him he’d been asleep for fifty-two minutes.

He stifled a Human urge to sigh and rose, draping his meditation robes about himself before kneeling on his meditation mat.

***

“Bones!” Jim sailed in, entirely too cheerful.

“Jim,” Leonard replied absentmindedly, finishing the last sentences of his daily log. Jim waited patiently, leaning against his door jam as he jabbed a final period and signed it with a flourish.

When he looked up, Jim smiled. “Dinner and a show? I’ve got a table with our name on it.”

Leonard laughed as Jim wiggled his eyebrows and tried to wink at the same time.

“Sure. Go bother someone else for two minutes while I finish up.”

Jim widened his eyes dramatically, “who, me? Never.”

“I see you’re in a mood,” Leonard looked around, “two minutes.”

By the time he found his padd, saved everything and plugged it in to charge overnight, Jim had gathered a few other recently off-duty officers into a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

Leonard sighed and went to rescue his doctors from the giant child who was responsible for them all.

It wasn’t until much later, under the cover of Spock softly strumming his lyre, that Jim leaned towards Leonard.

“So we need to talk about the crew.” His gaze swept the room and Leonard’s followed, noting the empty seats and tired faces focused on the music.

“Yep,” Leonard said softly, unwilling to disrupt the calm that was slowly falling over the audience.

“Any idea what’s going on?” Spock seemed tense, brows one tense line on his otherwise impassive face.

“I have a few theories but there’s too little information for much else.” Leonard looked down at his hands, fingers weaving together in his lap.

The sound of Spock’s gentle instrument was mesmerizing.

“Well,” Jim sighed, “let me know if I can help.”

“Mhmm.” 

They sat in silence, listening.

As the piece came to a close, Leonard was hit with an urge to pick up his own instrument, the guitar semi-forgotten in the back of his closet lately.  _ How long had it been since he’s played for someone else? _

“Well,” Jim said as he rose from his seat. “Night.” He took two steps before turning back.

“Talk to Spock, would ya? He nearly bit Rand’s head off this afternoon.”

Leonard watched Jim leave before moving on to Spock, watching how carefully, almost lovingly, he placed the lyre into its case. Sulu said something and Spock gave a teeny little smile in reply. Leonard twitched as an involuntary shiver ran up his back. It was unnerving.

_ That’s a problem for another day. _

Leonard slipped out as Jaylah started the next song, Chapel and Uhura moving to the beat as they waited for their cue.

***

If Spock was being affected by whatever this was, then was sure as heck time to do something and Leonard knew exactly what to do. The prickle on his neck when he cast his senses convinced him that something Other was taking place on the Enterprise.

After swapping shifts with Geoff, Leonard made a stop down in Engineering, asking Scotty to grant him a favor and replicate most of his supplies without it showing on record. Back in his room, he locked his door and set an automated reply to messages, stating he was not to be disturbed for the next 16 hours.

He hoped it would be long enough.

Leonard pulled back a wall hanging, tying it back to frame a previously hidden niche in the wall. Several picture frames were clustered around an incense bowl and he touched their frames tenderly, greeting each of his ancestors in the old, weathered photos before picking up the bowl and placing a piece of black tourmaline inside, resting against a small bundle of white sage. He settled on a pillow on the floor, legs crossed, and placed the rest of the sage on the floor next to him.

He wiggled, getting comfortable, and began.

***

_ Hikaru dodged the alien, diving beneath its outstretched arm and rolling back to his feet, smoothly pulling his swords free at the same time. The blades flashed in the low flickering light of the cave as they extended to their full length. _

_ It roared, whirling around and lunging again, sharp claws tearing his shirt and pulling thin lines of searing hot pain out of his side. _

_ Hikaru yelled as he danced back, swords swinging in front and pushing the creature back out of reaching distance. He used the reprieve to regain his footing, feet brushing against and crunching on the bones of previous victims.  _

_ It rushed again, driving him back towards the edge of the ledge. He parried, lunged, and leapt, the creature letting out a terrible cry as he pulled the blade free. It dropped with a deep thud. _

_ He was already racing towards the hole in the wall. _

_ He was halfway there when its mate dropped from the ceiling and neatly hamstrung him. _

_ He screamed as he crashed to the floor. _

_ The new one wrapped one of those wickedly sharp sets of claws around his ankle and headed back towards the first creature. _

_ Hikaru kicked wildly, startling the thing into dropping him. He scrambled to his knees and drove his remaining blade between two eyes, half of it emerged dripping on the other side. He yanked but the blade was stuck, firmly lodged in the bone structure of the creature’s skull. He quickly pulled his shirt off, tying it firmly around his thigh as a tourniquet slash blood collection pad. _

_ Using a tall sturdy bone from a creature on this awful planet, he hauled himself to his feet and hobbled towards the exit, significantly slower than before.  _

_ Hikaru was sitting, leaning against the wall, panting and light-headed when the first creature stirred. He watched, eyes half-closed, body leaden and mind screaming, as it picked up his swords with suddenly flexible thumblike claws and charged. _

_ He couldn’t muster more than the energy to twitch his finger when the swords slid through him and into the earth. _

_ As his eyes slipped shut he thought he saw Ben and Demora. Staring down at him with white eyes. _

Hikaru woke with a strangled scream, held down on his stomach by a huge weight, twin pains skewering through his back. He thrashed, trying to free himself.

It tightened its grip on his shoulders, pushing his face into the mattress, and the pain spread.

He strained, grunting, and tried to buck it off, shoulders straining to break the iron hold above his elbows, feet sliding on the sheets as he tried to gain purchase.

With a final, vicious effort he managed to lift his head and yelled.

“LIGHTS ON.”

The room flooded with light and he was alone. Terrified. Confused.

***

Jim was in the middle of a comm with Scotty when Leonard stepped onto the Bridge, wiping the sweat from his temple.

“ - the temperature regulations. The Andorian officers are getting heatstroke.” Jim was fanning himself as he spoke, sweat darkening the pits of his shirt.

“Aye, sir. I’m goin’ as fast as I can.” Scotty’s voice was hoarse and someone was shouting in the background. “It’ll take another hour, maybe two, to get our Lady back in order.”

“Understood. Kirk out.”

Jim looked at Leonard. “I know Bones, but you heard him. A couple more hours.”

Leonard was too hot to work himself up. As hot and humid as Georgia could get in the summer, this was worse. Way worse. Whoever invented the saying about dry heats must have had heatstroke themselves.

“Thanks, Jim. In the meantime, I’m commandeering the pool for the Andorians on board. It’s the best way to prevent long term health issues.”

Jim nodded, “alright Bones, anything they need.”

As the lift doors closed, Leonard turned around. Everyone was flushed and sweating except Spock. Spock didn’t look the least bit disheveled, damn him.

***

_ Leonard recognized this elevator. Joanna tugged on his sleeve. _

_ Dread seeped into his soul, fingers trembling as he gathered his daughter close. _

_ He remembered what happened. He was going to promise to take Joanna to the park. _

_ He looked around frantically, looking for any way to get out. He jabbed every button but the elevator continued, floor numbers flashing as they descended. _

_ He elbowed his way to the front of the elevator, Jo’s arms around his neck, and bolted the moment the doors opened. He was almost to the back street entrance when the ship hit. _

_ When the dust settled he took a moment to assess, pushing aside the immediate panic of being trapped. Feet, legs, hands, arms, check. Torso, bruised as heck. Head, bleeding at his left temple. _

_ “Joanna,” he coughed out, dust and grit coating the inside of his mouth. He coughed again. _

_ “Jo, baby? Can you hear me?” he said urgently. _

_ “Daddy?” Joanna's voice broke as she sobbed. It was dull, filtered through the rubble separating them. He could hear water dripping somewhere. _

_ Relief flooded through him. “Joanna! Are you all right?” _

_ “I- I think so.” She replied, trying to choke back sobs, “my legs are stuck.” _

_ “I'm here honey. Just hold on.” Bones grunted as he shifted a large piece of concrete off his hip. _

“Dr. McCoy, please report to Medbay. Priority Delta. Dr. McCoy, please report to Medbay immediately. Priority Delta.”

Leonard groaned and dragged himself into a sitting position. His eyes felt gritty, mouth gummy and dry, and his shoulders were heavy. He was still exhausted.

“Computer, lights 30% and time.” He staggered to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom as the computer answered complied.

“The time is 2:12am, Earth time.”

Just under four hours. No wonder he felt so awful. He scrubbed his face vigorously before reaching for his uniform, back aching.

Leonard paused for a moment when the doors to the lift opened, surprised by the unnatural amount of movement and sound for the hour.

As he approached, he realized who was on those beds. Spock and Lieutenant McGiver.

“What the hell happened,” he barked, albeit less authoritatively than he wished.

M’Benga threw an answer over his shoulder as he continued scanning Spock, “Lieutenant. McGiver’s emergency signal went off and two officers from Security found him unconscious and bleeding from puncture wounds on his back. We’re stabilizing her now.”

“Mr. Spock came to us about five minutes ago, informed us of his hormonal imbalance, said he would be unconscious for one hour twenty-two minutes, and promptly entered a healing trance.”

Leonard cursed, “well, at least he told us this time.” The memory of Spock’s apparently lifeless body being carried into Medbay flashed through his head. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get over that experience.

“Sir?” Leonard turned. Ensign Miller shifted, eyes nervously flicking up to his face before settling on the Medbay insignia on his chest. “There were several other officers who came in since Alpha shift ended.”

A bolt of guilt shot through him. He really had been too hard on her the other day.

She offered him his padd. “The files are already open.”

Leonard strengthened his southern accent, and smiled, attempting to soften her memory of their previous encounter. “Thank you, ensign. I appreciate your diligence.”

She blushed and nodded before turning away. He looked down, flipping through the patient notes.

A little warning bell rang in the back of his head - the one that said  _ dealing with a Thing _ . The late hour and exhaustion forgotten, he went to the closest computer and sat, flicking the files onto the larger screen. After a couple of minutes, he pulled up a blank document on his padd and started writing.

Once he had ordered his thoughts, he couldn’t believe no one had noticed the pattern sooner. It was so blindingly obvious to anyone with half a brain. He needed another opinion.

“Hey, Geoff, come take a look.” Leonard waved M’Benga over and offered his padd when he was close enough. Geoff accepted it and began to read as Leonard spoke.

“Something Christine said got me thinkin’. Now that Spock is in here with the same symptoms, I decided to take a closer look. Reports of restless sleep or bad dreams, low energy and exhaustion, and contusions in the mid to lower back. Then there’s the decreased heart rate and oxygenation, and generalized weakness from an absence of adrenaline and imbalanced hormones.”

Leonard gestured to the computer screen. “So I went through the logs.” He pointed out the first highlighted name. “Ensign Riley was the first person to report some of these symptoms almost a month ago.”

Geoff looked down at Leonard, brow furrowed. “Wasn’t that when we were taking the new Andorian ambassador to Cardassia Prime?”

“Yep,” Leonard confirmed, “through the Tycho system. Remember Tycho IV?”

Geoff nodded slowly, patiently waiting for Leonard to get to his point.

“Well, I think it might be something similar to that dikironium cloud creature.”

“Very astute, Dr. McCoy.” Spock’s voice startled both men.

Leonard scowled, “I oughta get you a bell, Spock.”

Spock ignored him choosing to look intently at the screen instead. “However, unlike the creature whom you referenced which extracted red blood corpuscles, this creature seems to be draining the adrenaline from its victims’ bodies.”

He leaned closer to the screen, reaching across Leonard to swipe through the compiled data, brows pulled down in concentration. Behind his back, M’Benga began scanning him, the tricorder flashing.

“Fascinating.”

Leonard rolled his eyes. “What?”

Geoff flashed Leonard a thumbs up as Spock replied, “It would seem that you have overlooked one symptom.”

Leonard couldn’t believe the gall of this man. “ Now look here, you -”

“Dr. McCoy, insults are not necessary at this juncture,” Spock cut in smoothly, “While in the healing trance I analyzed the events of the evening that resulted in my visit to Medbay.”

Leonard raised a brow and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. “And?”

“I found there was one symptom that was only present for a few minutes after waking - elevated activity in the brain, specifically the Vulcan equivalent of the Human amygdala.”

Leonard glanced at Geoff. “How about McGiver? When she came in, were her scans normal?”

Geoff tapped the screen, clearing it so he could pull up her file. “Her first scan did show some heightened activity but the second, taken fifteen minutes later showed normal function for a body in her situation.

Leonard sighed, shoulders slumping as his disrupted sleep caught up to him. 04:38 Earth time. No wonder why his eyes felt dry and gritty.

“Well, Spock, I don’t know about you but I need a little more shut-eye before my next shift starts.”

No need, Doctor, as I rested sufficiently while healing.”

“Right.” Leonard didn’t even have the energy to return a quip. “Good evening, then.”

He left the two men discussing possible diseases in the database, the soft rise and fall of their voices fading as he walked down the hall.

***

Nyota turned off her padd, the screen light cut off, throwing her into darkness as she wiggled, settling into the mattress. She hated trying to go to sleep after a double shift. Something about being overtired made her brain do stupid things.

She began counting by twos, letting the edge of sleep slide towards her, eyes finally sliding shut around 348...

_She_ _was still young, still energetic, eager to prove herself and make a name._

_ As she watched, her hand trembled and aged. She blinked and realized she was sitting in an Elder Care facility. _

_ She looked down and gasped at the wrinkled hand that grasped the paper now. _

Nyota blinked slowly, the black of her lids slightly darker than the room. Her limbs felt heavy and her eyes slid shut again.

_ Wrinkled and pale, it was mottled with age spots and already trembled with fatigue. _

_ She raised her other hand and touched her face. The skin was fragile and loose. It felt inevitable. _

She blinked again and

_ she was sitting in a bed, a mirror on the table hovering over her lap. The flash of white in the mirror startled her and she pulled on her hair extending the kinky strands until she could see them. Completely white. Just like her great grandmother in her final years. _

Nyota’s heart jumped into her throat, and she was suddenly awake, staring at nothing, heart hammering, little lizard brain screaming DANGER! She struggled to move. Her eyelids were so heavy.

_ A knock on her door interrupted her spiral and she startled, heart jumping in a way it never had before. _

_ She felt so old. _

_ From the other side of the door a familiar voice spoke, “Nyota, it is me, Spock. May I enter?” _

Nyota blinked again. It was pitch black but she swore she heard something move at the end of her bed.

_ She couldn’t speak past the thundering in her chest. A searing pain lanced through and she leaned over, wheezing. _

_ The door slid open a crack. A shadow peeked through the gap. “Please, Nyota.” _

Another blink. She struggled to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t breathe. Whatever was in her room was coming closer, whispering, scraping across the floor.

_ The door slid open a crack. A shadow peeked through the gap. “Please, Nyota.” _

Another blink. It was by her head. She could feel it.  **She couldn’t turn her head** .

_ She struggled to look up at him. The weight on her chest was terrible. She couldn’t breathe. _

Nyota gasped for breath.

_ The door slid open another couple inches. _

She opened her mouth and screamed.

***

Leonard was out of his bed and down the hall, phaser trained ahead, and scanning for the threat before he realized he was awake. Spock was just ahead, punching the code into Uhura’s door, barely letting it slide open before pushing his way into the black. He reached the threshold. Glass shattered inside. He couldn’t see.

The space between his shoulder blades prickled.

“Lights on,” Leonard roared, phaser sweeping up in front of him. The room flooded with bright, artificial light and Leonard froze as he saw it wrapped around Spock, twisting, squeezing, choking him.

Spock’s face was feral, teeth bared and eyes wild as he struggled to free himself.

Leonard stepped into the room and all movement stopped.

Then it was gone, dissipating into thin air and Spock was on all fours, coughing.

Leonard glanced around warily, “Spock, you alright?”

Spock nodded, panting loud in the otherwise silent room.

Leonard's heart skipped a beat as he realized. Spock straightened up, reacting to Leonard's sudden movement towards the bed.

Uhura had stopped screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> advance apologies if my medical-speak isn't very accurate
> 
> also, MCCoy self identifies as black, not African American. This is for a very specific reason. Many people in the black/African American community in the U.S. prefer to identify as black because they don't have cultural background and historical ties to Africa due to slavery. They feel that the term black more accurately reflects their own identity and loss.

Leonard sat slumped over, head in his hands, staring down at Uhura’s vitals on the padd in his lap.

Comatose.

Nothing they had done had altered her state. The moment medications were injected, her vitals shot up to a normal range just as expected before quickly sliding back down. They’d placed her on the respirator when her heart began to show signs of strain. 

It was almost like that  _ thing _ , whatever it was, was still feeding on her. If it was, the link wasn’t telepathic. Leonard had made Spock check.

Leonard gritted his teeth, eyes gritty and burning as he switched to staring at Uhura, hoping some clue would rise up and slap him in the face.

She was ashy and pale, skin almost bluish. Her face was covered by a mask and her chest rose and fell in time with the gently hissing respirator.

He hated seeing such a vibrant young woman, his friend, reduced to this. Despair clawed its way up his throat but he shoved it back down.

He scrubbed his eyes and stretched back in his chair, arching back as his spine cracked, then opening up her neural scans, willing that clue to appear with every fiber of his being.

Her neural map was as bright as normal, every aspect of it indicating her brain was functioning normally - except for her amygdala. That small section showed twice as much activity when compared to her last physical.

Leonard tossed the padd onto the desk, watching dispassionately as the padd teetered, hovering on the edge of the desk before slowly tipping over and falling to the floor.

The glass shattered.

One piece of glass spun out, spinning to a stop halfway under Uhura’s bed.

The light glinted.

Leonard couldn’t bring himself to care.

He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Uhura.

***

Leonard waited until the door slid shut, locking him into his quarters, before grabbing the closest object and throwing as hard as he could. The picture frame shattered, sending shards of glass flying across the room. It wasn’t enough. He snarled and grabbed a candle, sending across the room to thunk and fall to the ground, shape lost on impact.

She’d been in a coma for two - two! - days and none of the best and brightest he’s hired had been able to crack it.

Two days of watching Uhura die slowly. Two days of watching other officers come in, complaining of headaches, nightmares, insomnia.

Two days of being  _ useless _ .

Leonard grabbed another picture frame and shifted, preparing to throw it when he caught sight of the old woman in the picture.

Mimi.  _ Piti a piti, zozo fait son nid. Little by little the bird builds its nest. _

His breath caught. Of course. His grandmother always knew what to say to him.

Leonard had tried conventional medicine.

Now it was time to try something different.

***

Sulu looked at the list and raised one brow, managing to channel a very Spockian aura as he looked at Leonard.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Leonard said as he raised his hands defensively.

“Oh, I’m looking, Doc. Not asking, just looking.”

Leonard scowled. “Well look somewhere else like in the corner of this godforsaken garden that has it.”

Sulu dropped the act, laughing. “Sure thing.”

“What’s got you so upbeat?” Leonard couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone smile. Too much time in Medbay. Too many people suffering from whatever this was.

“I managed to finagle a long-range transmission and talk to Ben and Demora earlier.” Sulu grinned at him.

Leonard smiled back softly, heart aching as he thought about his own troubled sleep, broken by those dreams of losing Joanna. As hard as those dreams were it was hard to stay upset in the face of such infectious joy.

***

“Ye need whit?”

Leonard stifled the urge to snicker at Scotty. “I need lamp oil.”

“But,” Scotty looked lost, “fer what, sir?”

“For a personal project, Scotty.” Leonard sighed, too tired to come up with a lie. “Look, can you replicate some or not?”

Scotty scowled, accent thickening as he reacted to the attack on his capabilities, “Can I do it?!” He turned away and stabbed a code into the Engineering replicator, grumbling as he did it. “Can I do it. The gall o’ this ‘un.”

Leonard couldn’t suppress a snort. The replicator chimed and Scotty was shoving a pint glass full of oil at him and stalking away.

“Thanks!” Leonard called at his retreating back. The oil was oddly warm in his hands as he turned to leave.

“Yer welcome, ya bastard.” Scotty’s parting words pushed him into the hallway and he left laughing.

By the time Leonard reached his quarters, he wasn’t laughing anymore. The small pile of flowers and handwritten cards left in front of Uhura’s door had done its job, reminding him why he was doing this.

He was going to call on Agwé. Vodou loa.  _ Koki dore _ , the Golden Shell.

Invoking him could cure Uhura. Or he would kill them all.

Agwé was not a god to invoke lightly - legend told of sailors angering the loa for invoking him for what he perceived as trivial issues, capsizing boats and pulling wind from the sails, leaving the men to slowly die of thirst...or more quickly if they drank from the sea.

Leonard hoped being on a starship in a black sea in deep space was close enough to appease Agwé and not anger him.

There were so many things that could go wrong.

Leonard swallowed hard and set his shoulders.

Uhura was worth it.

Leonard set the oil down, taking care to avoid the other supplies. His fingers brushed against a bowl on the way to three medium stones he had taken from his favorite beach before leaving San Francisco. He picked the three stones up and leaned them against each other, carefully arranging them into a rough tripod, before letting go and cursing under his breath when they immediately fell over. After several attempts, he managed to adjust them so they stayed propped up, and leaned back, sighing with relief.

Leonard turned to the pumpkin, gripping and inspecting it, testing its hardness before putting it down and unrolling a length of cloth, each turn revealing another tool of his practice. Near the end of the roll, he found the knife he wanted. He pulled it out, the knife shorter than his palm, the tips of the serrated edge glistening in the light as he inspected it.

Finally, pleased with his choice, Leonard picked up the knife and returned to the pumpkin, deftly slicing the top off, leaving the main body as high as possible. He scooped its innards out, spoon scraping against the shell all too quickly, placing them in a glass jar and screwing the cap on before setting it aside. He used the same spoon to smooth the oddly gritty and aromatic mixture of crossroads soil, vibrantly red cinnabar-based paint pigment, and ground chili pepper evenly along the floor of the pumpkin. He placed the pumpkin on the stone tripod, holding his breath as he waited for the precarious contraption to keel over.

Inside he arranged three splinters of bone, removed from the leg of a young ensign who fell off the catwalk in the Engine room, so they were tipped towards each other, the sharp tips digging into the tightly wound cotton wick, holding it upright.

Leonard sighed deeply, emptying his lungs and filling them again slowly, giving himself a steady flow of oxygen so his hands could be steady for the next step. Carefully, so, so carefully, he used the back of the spoon to gently fill the pumpkin nearly to the brim with the oil, pausing every few moments to double-check that the stone stand and the delicate bone shards were still positioned correctly.

“Dammit,” Leonard muttered, “I forgot the object.” He cast about looking for an acceptable item. His eyes settled on the small sculpture Uhura had given him, a beautifully detailed hand-carved hyena, polished until the swirls of the bird’s eye maple shone, the mixture of light and dark wood creating the spots of the hyena’s hide. She had given in to him as a memento for saving her life once during a crisis on a planet, her life rapidly flowing out through a gash in her stomach. He could still remember the smell of the world burning as he barely managed to literally tape her up, his more advanced tech useless after the EMP device, applying several layers of duct tape to the wound, before the pained scream of another officer had him dashing away over uneven ground.

Uhura’s amused voice echoed in his head.  _ Hyenas are special in Bantu culture, Leonard. In my favorite story, the hyena tricks the hare, using sneaky tricks and deception to try to win. Even when others tried to convince me that the hyena was evil, I always admired it. The hyena follows its nature to accomplish its goal. Her voice shifted, amusement infusing her tone. You’re very similar. Focused, following your heart and doing what’s right for you even when you know the brass will give you shit. _

Leonard chuckled softly to himself. Yes, this would work quite well. It would tie Uhura to whatever was hunting them, laying in wait, patiently waiting from the darkness. It would lead Agwé to the predator attacking the ship.

He held it, tiny in his palm, admiring its smooth curves, one finger stroking it a final time before letting it slip smoothly into the oil. It bobbed for a moment and tipped over, tail tip breaking the surface.

He waited until it stilled before he lit the match, flame flaring white and turning darker, almost orange as the candle Leonard built caught.

Now, all he could do was wait and hope the Lao would protect them so far from home.

~~~

Three days later, the ship breathed a collective sigh of relief as Uhura woke briefly before falling into a healing sleep. Leonard, Christine, and M’Benga took turns messaging each other, rejoicing as her hormones stabilized and the pallor cleared from her face. The first time Christine allowed non-Medbay staff to visit Jim held her hand tenderly between his own, eyes shiny, and Spock placed a hand on her shoulder, the normally rigid line of his shoulders looser than Leonard could remember seeing in quite some time, the smallest smile gracing his face. Uhura’s raspy comment had Jim’s delighted laughter pealing through the room.

Invigorated by his success, Leonard convinced Christine and Rand to host a party for Uhura a week later, to celebrate Uhura’s release. She was there for only a short time, her energy not yet up to its usual energetic levels, but her smile was wide, and the atmosphere light. Leonard had promised to be there, too, even though his, Spock, and Geoff’s search for a more concrete source of the illness had left him with little time to sleep. Uhura found him leaning heavily against a wall, eyes gritty and shoulders slumped as he shared a bottle of Saurian brandy with Scotty, Rand, Sulu, and Chekov, grabbing his arm and pulling him away to talk.

“So.” Leonard hid a sigh of relief. She seemed just like before she fell ill. “I hear you’re responsible for this,” she gestured at the room, “and that you’re planning to deliver a fantastic speech.”

His face spasmed and Uhura’s serious facade cracked. “Sorry,” she laughed, “I couldn’t help it. I know how you feel about public speaking.” She grinned at him unrepentant, as he scowled. “Besides, I bet no one’s been doing my job of getting you to lighten up while I was asleep. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t snap in half.”

Leonard quirked a wry grin. “Honey, it’ll take a lot more than a few weeks of stress to break me.” She laughed and he felt the last worry he had for her sliding off his shoulders.

“Oh, Len, I know I was unconscious, but I really did miss you.” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing hard.

Leonard stiffened, surprised, but quickly hugged her back, rubbing her back as she spoke again, voice muffled against his sweater.

“Thank you.”

***

Leonard was sewing symbols into red flannel cloth when his door chimed.

“Commander Spock.” The computer announced. “Override code Alpha Delta 35644 Sigma.”

Leonard’s heart stuttered and he lunged for his blanket, a flick of the wrist snapping it out so it billowed and settled neatly over the table before whirling around to face the door as it slid open, hoping his body shielded most of the table from view.

“Hey there Spock!” Dammit, he hid a wince, he sounded downright glad to see him. “What can I do ya for?”

Spock merely raised a brow as he entered. “I believe the question, Doctor, is what can I do for you.”

“...What?”

Spock paused as the door slid shut. “Are you not attempting to use magick to aid your search for a cure for this illness aboard the Enterprise?”

Leonard stared at him, gobsmacked. “Wah-” His voice cracked so he cleared throat and tried again, aiming for nonchalant. “What?” His heart beat faster. What, or more likely how much, did Spock know?

Spock’s second brow rose to join its brother, brushing against his bangs. “Come now, Doctor.” His tone was gently chiding as his gaze swept past Leonard, dropping to stare at Leonard’s blanket. Not his finest hour - of course a blanket covering a table would be suspect.

“You know what I mean.”

Leonard swallowed hard, thinking fast.

Spock’s face shifted fo a moment. He looked almost...sad. “Leonard, there is no need to hide. I know you are a practitioner.” Spock’s shoulders shifted as he clasped his hands behind him. “Did you think I would accept your paltry explanation for what happened in Nyota’s quarters?”

_ Leonard _ . Shock rippled through him. Then everything else he said registered.  _ He knows _ . Leonard stared at him, mouth falling open. Leonard couldn’t think, his thoughts racing, jumbling as he realized what Spock as saying. Was continuing to say. How much had he deduced? Why hadn’t he been reported?  _ What was Spock going to do? _

“Leonard.” Spock reached out a hand.

Leonard recoiled, the movement almost violent in his attempt to keep space between them.

Spock froze, hand outstretched, surprised. He slowly lowered his hand and just...looked at Leonard.

Leonard realized he was nearly cowering and slowly straightened up, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest. He didn’t know what his face looked like but it was making Spock’s twist in an un-Vulcan-like manner.

“Leonard,” he said again, unbelievably quiet. “I do not care that you practice. I am only interested in finding a cure for this illness.”

Leonard just looked at him, raw and stinging, gut twisted, and his hands clenching as he struggled. Spock knew. The part of him that cost him everything, that disgusted his friends and family...he said he didn’t care?

“Very well. I see that I have made you uncomfortable. Perhaps this conversation should be continued at a later time.” Spock turned to leave.

“Wait,” Leonard spoke before he made his decision.

Spock half turned to look at him.

“I just - “ Leonard threw up his hands as words failed him, “dammit, it’s been such a big secret for such a long time! I don’t know how to talk about it.” He leveled a glare at Spock. “Then YOU come in here and talk about it like it’s - it’s nothing!”

Spock faced him fully. “I apologize. It is not my intention to trivialize the matter.”

Leonard sighed, “I know.” He gestured at the chairs, half-hidden by the blanket. “Sit.”

Spock nodded and strode to his seat, pausing to help Leonard carefully remove the blanket with as little disturbance to the items beneath as possible before sitting. When they were finally seated, Leonard had finally collected himself enough to start.

“I know I’ve said that my reasons for joining Starfleet were private but I haven’t told you why.” Leonard took a deep breath and let it out noisily. “Before I joined Starfleet I had a wife and a daughter.”

Spock’s eyebrows shot up.

“Wait, no. That came out wrong. I still have a daughter! I’m just, uh, divorced now.” Leonard rubbed at the beginnings of a headache. This feeling stuff had never come easy for him.

“Let me start over. Before I got divorced I had a family and I was practicing medicine in a family clinic in a small town in northern Georgia. Everyone in the town is a member of a certain church and everyone is kind of racist - one of the last few communities to hold onto such hooey. I’m -” Leonard hesitated but kept his eyes glued on his hands, “I’m part black. Just a little bit. My grandmother was a voodoo priestess in Louisiana, and she taught my mom and then me. When I fell in love with Jocelyn, she kept her more extreme side hidden until after Joanna was born. When we moved back to her hometown, life was,” Leonard struggled for a neutral description, “unfriendly to those with different ethnic backgrounds.”

He stared down at his hands which had fallen into his lap, using one hand to loosen the other up, thumb stretching the muscles. “Once I realized who I had married I was glad that I kept my heritage private. I put everything into a box and hid it under the porch, only taking it out for the big holidays and never at home.”

“Then I started to get careless.” Memories raced behind his eyes. A small, dark space lit by warm candles. A picture of Mimi in its simple gold frame. The room was thrown into relief as the door opened. Jocelyn’s shadow stretching across the altar as her voice rose in anger.

“I thought I was safe and she caught me.” Leonard swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat, the feelings rising up and crashing down on him, an inexorable tide that swept away his old life. “She kicked me out a few minutes later and kept Jo away from me. I only ever saw my baby girl once in the courtroom when I tried to sue for custody.”

Tears loomed, threatening, pricking his eyes as he wrestled himself back into tight control. He took a deep breathe in and let it out in a long, slow whoosh, forcing himself to relax.

“And that’s why I reacted that way.” Leonard chuckled darkly. “The last time someone found out I lost everything.”

Silence fell between them. It felt oppressive and heavy. Leonard began to sweat as he pressed his hands flat between his knees to keep them from shaking, counting the individual hairs peeking out from his sleeve to keep from screaming. He heard a rustle and startled as Spock knelt down in front of him, voice quiet and hands soft as he pulled Leonard’s hands out from their prison.

“I grieve with thee, Leonard.” The words were weighted, heavy, yet comforting all the same. “To lose a child in any way is a terrible blow. To lose them for such an illogical reason is far worse.”

Spock shifted as if to move away and Leonard found himself holding onto Spock, clutching at his arms, a finger digging into the soft space between wrist and thumb on the back of one hand. Spock settled back and waited.

Leonard opened his mouth but aborted, tried, and failed again, exhaling sharply. Time stretched between them, stifling and oppressive. He felt the weight of lost friends’ judgment weighing on his shoulders, scratching at the space between his shoulder blades.

Finally, he gathered the tattered remnants of his pride and shoved it into his spine, straightening up, forcing himself to look up into -

Soft, warm brown eyes. Steady. Unflinching.

There was something warm growing in his chest.

_ Oh, _ he thought as Spock’s cool hands shifted, sliding against his own and moving to grip his hands more firmly.

“Yes, ‘oh’.” The Vulcan’s voice was colored with amusement, mouth quirked up.

Leonard realized he was smiling, too.

He sat another moment, savoring the feeling of acceptance a little longer, filling him up and threatening to overflow before standing and moving to his replicator, punching in the code for two glasses of water and definitely not wiping away an errant tear.

“So, what were you thinking when you walked in, Spock?”

Thankfully the Vulcan followed his lead, moving on to a slightly less sensitive subject. “Your...blanket project is much more interesting, Doctor. Perhaps you will expound on the purpose of gris-gris. Historical documents suggest...”

Leonard’s grin lingered throughout the rather heated discussion between the two of them over the various aspects of voodoo practice.

***

Four days later the first recurrence of symptoms was reported. That afternoon Leonard and Spock walked the length of the ship, shoving smoking incense into every nook and cranny of the public spaces and leaving a large pile of replicated sage smoldering under the watchful eyestalks of Keenser next to the main air circulation vents. The smell seeped into the quarters through the vents, coating everything with the slight odor of ivory soap and musty wood burning in a campfire.

The slowly rising number of complaints about headaches and poor sleep, increased nightmares, and pale, listless faces continued to pass him in the hallways.

Uhura, who recovered faster than anyone expected, was the one to come up with the idea. Jim nearly wiggled out of his chair on the bridge. Sulu and Chekov leaned towards each other to slap a high five. Spock kept his eyes firmly on a patch of galaxy, leaning over his workstation.

Leonard...well, Leonard couldn’t decide how he felt. On one hand, he knew it would be good for morale and he was happy to help a friend. On the other, he’d been finagled into helping host a party.

A few days later, Uhura asked him to meet a final time in one of the less used recreation rooms. Leonard signed off shift early, leaving Medbay in Christine’s capable hands, and made his way to the meeting place. 

Uhura grinned gleefully when she saw him, arms crossed as she leaned against the corridor wall. “I think we’re ready.”

Leonard grinned back. “You finished?”

“About ten minutes ago.” Uhura’s grin softened, “want to see?”

Leonard nodded eagerly. She reached out and swiped at the door, giving a little flourish with her hand as she invited him into the room. Leonard stepped in and stared, mouth falling open as he took it all in.

The room had been transformed.

The tables and chairs had been moved sections of the room. The potted plants had been lined up, creating smaller areas against one wall. The walls had hidden, large pieces of cloth hung from the ceiling and several room dividers helped create an Earth-like atmosphere. Lowered lighting throughout completed the cozy feeling.

In one corner, the built-in miniature stage area was lit by floor lamps. A single chair was on the stage. Leonard’s palms ached for his guitar. He hadn’t wanted to play this much since he was in pre-med.

“So?” Uhura’s voice broke him out of a long moment of introspection.

“Wow...just, wow, Uhura. Wow.” Leonard couldn’t find the proper words to communicate his appreciation.

Uhura looked pleased as the rest of the party committee slipped in to finish setting up and she delegated him to the role of assistant decorator. It wasn’t until later that Leonard realized he’d been had.

The crew on Beta shift arrived first, coming straight from duty, faces lighting up as they entered. Leonard, temporarily assigned to the drinks table, couldn’t help but smile at the gasps of delight and compliments he heard from his vantage point near the door as each group entered.

The room quickly filled with chatter and laughter, people milling about, greeting friends and grabbing plates of food and drink, handmade finger foods rather than the usual replicated stuff.

Jim and Spock, already playing a game of chess, had snagged a large table. Spock arched a brow and said something to Jim who threw his head back, laughter filling the room. Chekov was flirting earnestly with several of the younger crew members as one young ensign selected a song for the karaoke machine. Sulu had muttered something before he left about 15 minutes ago. Uhura and Christine were tuning their instruments, chatting as they waited for Jaylah to arrive.

Leonard happily played bartender, using rusted skills to create some simple drinks, keeping a whiskey for himself and using the nearest ensigns as waiters to give Spock white russians and Jim pina coladas. Spock had achieved several mouth-corner-twitches-that-totally-classify-as-Vulcan-smiles-Spock-don’t-argue-with-me by the time Sulu and Scotty arrived, grinning mischievously.

“Hello, doctor,” Chekov greeted enthusiastically as Sulu stifled a laugh as he haphazardly saluted. His accent was the strongest it had been since the five-year mission had started. “We haff a surprise for you!”

Sulu half turned away as his shoulder shaking and he pointed towards the stage. Leonard ignored him and looked. He opened his mouth.

Then he closed it.

Across the room, Uhura raised her glass from where she was sitting with Christine. She looked awfully pleased with herself.

His guitar was propped against the chair.

Leonard’s palms tingled and he suppressed a full-body shiver as a bolt of excitement shot up his spine.  _ He was going to play for people again. _ He quickly rearranged his face before turning back around

“We’re going to have a little talk about privacy and taking others' belongings,” he said sternly, leveling a stare at them, “but not today.”

He was probably grinning like a fool and he didn’t care one bit. A moment later he was striding to the stage, throwing a quick thanks over his shoulder as he reached for his guitar, carefully settling it on his knee before tuning it quietly.

The overhead lights darkening throughout the room brought him back to the crew who were settling into chairs and quieting.

“Hi everyone,” Uhura’s voice carried across the room as she snagged the microphone with a wave. “Thank you so much for coming to our get together!” She glanced back at Leonard before continuing.

“We hope you’re having fun and we have one more treat for you. Leonard here has a secret ability he hides away in his quarters and tonight he’s going to share a bit of his favorite kind of magic with you before we open up the stage to the other performers who signed up.”

Leonard glanced at Spock and laughed as his brow disappeared into his hair. She didn’t even realize the truth of what she’d said. Maybe someday, if it really didn’t change his friendship with Spock, he’d gather the courage to tell her. Someday. 

For now, though, he was going to enjoy this. Right here. Singing for his friends and his crew. He double-checked the tuning and took a breath.

Then he began.

Arpeggiated chords floated out, accented notes creating a swing as he settled into the song. A deep, mellow melody followed, weaving between with quick little slides. The song rose, introspective, tone turning plaintive and searching before settling back and ending on a peaceful note that lingered. Then he was moving on, a faster piece, a favorite of his Mimi’s called Jolene. He took a breath and let it out, and he was singing, his voice bolstered and enriched by the guitar.

_ Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene _

_ I’m beggin’ of you please don’t take my man _

_ Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, _

_ Please don’t take him just because you can... _

He moved on from one song to the next, falling into the set he’d developed back when he was performing regularly. Time slipped by as he sang and all too soon he was stealing a final sip to wet his throat as the audience laughed at his joke before his last, and personal favorite song.

_ I’d heard there was a secret chord _

_ That David played and it pleased the Lord _

_ But you don’t care for music, do ya? _

_ Well, it goes like this the fourth the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift _

_ The baffled king composing Hallelujah... _

There was something magical about this song. He always thought so, every single time he played it.

_ Well your faith was strong but you needed proof _

Maybe it was the way the vibrations traveled through the guitar and into his core.

_ She broke your throne and she cut your hair _

_ And from your lips, she drew a Hallelujah _

Maybe it was the way he picked the part out on the strings.

_ Well, baby, I’ve been here before _

_ I’ve seen this room and I’ve walked this floor _

Maybe it was the way the melody matched the lyrics, enhanced it,

_ Love is not a victory march _

_ It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah _

turned each line of the lyrics into a glowing, wondrous web of feeling that evoked an ephemeral, indefinable quality,

_ Well, maybe there’s a God above _

_ But all I’ve ever learned from love _

a nostalgia for something that never happened,

_ Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya _

then let it drift, glittering as it rode the air

_ It’s not a cry you hear at night _

_ It’s not somebody who’s seen the light _

until it anchored itself back down.

_ It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah _

_ Hallelujah, Hallelujah _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the spones and mc'hura vibes are strong in this one


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing keeps getting longer (thanks to feelings) so here's a short chapter before the finale!

In the end, he’s...well, not proud exactly, but still fully happy to take credit for the steady stream of bitching he subjects Jim to in the Mess that results in the lead he’s been given. It came as Jim steered them to a nearby empty table, Leonard punctuating his tirade with aggressive hand movements, nearly slapping Lieutenant Palamas in the shoulder as she stood up.

“Sorry, Lieutenant Palamas,” Jim smiled and winked. “You know how Bones gets when he’s can’t figure something out.”

She waved the apology away with a smile, “no need to apologize, Captain. We could all hear Dr. McCoy, which is why I stood up to stop you.” Leonard flushed. “Something about What Dr. McCoy is describing seems familiar. May I sit with you?”

Jim elbowed Leonard in the side before he could reply. Leonard elbowed him right back as he pasted on his most charming smile, “why, of course. We’d love to have you company, Lieutenant.”

“Can you please repeat what you were saying as you entered, Doctor?” Palamas asked.

Something about her soft demeanor soothed Leonard’s frazzled nerves. He glanced at Jim whose eyes were literally twinkling as he gazed at her. Leonard rolled his own. The fool.

“The patients have reported unexplained tiredness, stiffness in the back, and weakness. They’ve also said they’re having nightmares that are so terrifying they wake up. Recently, we’ve been finding small scabs on their lower back.” Leonard twisted to point at the spots on his back. “Medically -”

“Thank you for the information, Doctor McCoy.” Lieutenant smiled softly. “I remember, now. One of my courses was a class on the history of medicine from a religious and historical standpoint, studying how early Terran cultures perceived biology and chemistry and how they integrated it into their mythology.”

“One case study had similar symptoms to these. Over time, in the northern region of what was Germany before World War III, a mythological being called an alp grew within the culture. In other pre-three European cultures, similar situations created the myths of the vampire, mara or mare, or the old hag. I think there is even a creature in African mythology.” Her lips twisted, “unfortunately, with my specialty focused more on the ancient Roman civilization, I can’t do more than point you in a direction Perhaps Uhura can help you with the African mythology. I know she took several courses on African history and mythology during college.”

“No, thank you. Every possible lead is a good one at this point." Leonard stood abruptly and was already heading towards his office, a hundred different thoughts running through his head, “sorry Jim, I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Jim yelped behind him, “what about your food!”

“You eat it, kid,” Leonard threw the words over his shoulder as the door slid open.

***

“I can’t believe you left me with double chilis,” Jim whined as he dropped into the extra chair in Leonard’s office. “Yours was unbearably spicy and Chekov had to rescue me, Bones. Little baby faced Chekov who apparently has an iron stomach! Thanks for approving the double caffeine, though. I haven’t been that alert during the second half of shift in months.”

“Uhuh,” Leonard didn’t look away from his screen. If he could just find the - “wait, what?”

Jim grinned, “just kidding. I know you’d have a fit. Chekov took that off my hands, too. He said he approves of your lunch choices.”

Leonard squinted at Jim, frowned, then refocused his padd. “What are you doing here?”

Jim looked around the room, an exaggerated look of surprise on his face, “Oh my, how did I end up in this small, dark, office in Medbay and not in my chair on the bridge?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully then ruined the image with a wink, “oh yes, I’m here to remove you from this office forcibly. I will sing if I have to.”

Leonard winced. Hopeless was a diplomatic way to describe Jim’s ability to carry a tune. His back and butt were numb and his eyes and throat were so dry even Spock would consider calling them a desert.

“Also,” Jim continued more seriously, “it’s three hours into Delta shift. You need to eat and sleep.”

Leonard grimaced. “Okay, Jim. I get it. Done for the day.” He stood unsteadily with a groan, taking a moment to allow his muscles to loosen before he tried walking. “God, I’m getting old.”

Jim chuckled, “You’re 43 Bones, not 90.”

“Whatever,” Leonard moved towards the door as his belly gurgled. “What do you say to a nice, juicy, replicated burger? Wait ‘til you hear about what Uhura said about the kinmazi. Oh, and apparently there’s a Russian version called a kikimora. You should have heard him.” Leonard laughed as he attempted a truly horrendous Russian accent. “‘Did you know eet was inwented een Russia, Doctor?’ That kid...”

***

Leonard woke suddenly, dread racing up his legs in sharp pin pricks and settling into his stomach, hand coming up to push away whoever was gripping his shoulder, eyes wide as he took in the dark shape between him and the low light of the emergency lights.

“Calm yourself, Doctor.” Spock spoke smoothly. “We are required on the bridge as soon as possible. The Captain was not able to reach you through the comm system so I came to retrieve you.

Leonard swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his boots. “What’s happening out there?”

“Mr. Scott has interfered with the ship’s systems. The main power is down and life support is running on auxiliary.” Spock led them out into the hall as Leonard hopped on one foot, trying to straighten the tongue of the right boot. “Before shipwide communication was shut down to preserve energy, Keenser reported Mr. Scott had disconnected the warp core and dilithium from over 90% of the ship’s systems. Apparently, Mr. Scott was convinced that keeping the systems connected would lead to the ship imploding.”

“Jesus,” Leonard breathed as the elevator doors closed and shooting a quick command to the computer. “Bridge.” He scrubbed his hand over his face, too awake and feeling every one of his years. “Do we know when it’ll be sorted?”

“Negative. Mr. Scott has put us in a ‘real pickle’ as you would say,” Spock stated.

Leonard snorted. “Ya know, I swear I almost saw you use air quotes there, Spock.”

“Indeed,” Spock intoned, brow undoubtedly quirking even if Leonard couldn’t see it, his hands clasped behind his back in parade rest.

The comm beeped in a ship-wide broadcast. “Attention, crew of the Enterprise...”

By the time Jim finished updating the crew and Leonard stepped onto the bridge he didn’t think he’d find anything funny again if they couldn’t reverse what Scotty had done.

***

Four hours.

Four hours left before the reserve power stores would be drained. Four hours until the air scrubber powered down, before artificial gravity failed. Another 12 hours for the nearest Starfleet ship to reach them. Leonard wasn’t sure what was worse: that they’d die at all or they’d suffocate before the endless cold seeped through the hull of the ship to freeze their bodies for future explorers to find.

And Jim thought he’d been dramatic when he’d bitched about how space was darkness and disease wrapped in silence.

Leonard scowled as he sat in his office, door open, mostly charged padd in his hand. It was quiet and still in Medbay, all nonessential members of the crew in their quarters, recording messages for their loved ones.

Leonard leaned back and scrubbed his face with both hands. Medbay wasn’t the only quiet area. The whole ship was unnaturally silent, the underlying pulse of the ship’s heart dormant as the entire Engineering sector and other knowledgeable volunteers raced to repair or replace the parts Scotty had torn away.

Scotty had been a changed man when they’d broken into the engine room. Security had found him sweating and shaking, clutching his head, top half inside the entrance of a Jeffrey’s tube, groaning something about a tribble and yarn. Robins said he didn’t fight until they started walking the stretcher to the exit. Then he went wild, nearly kicking Robins in the face. It took M’Benga and a hypo to calm him enough to bring him to Medbay.

Leonard stood and moved to look at Scotty, pale and easily as still as his ship, the skin around his eyes and creases on his neck darkened and bluish. The biobed threw his life signs up onto the screen above him, reassuring Leonard that he was simply resting, and not gone like his body had threatened as they had worked on him, administering the experimental serum Spock and M’Benga had created to help the Humans who had been attacked and drained of adrenaline, then fighting to keep his heart beating as he reacted to the medication that forced his body to realign over hours instead of weeks.

He was responsible for this.

He was responsible for the health of the people on this ship and he had failed Scotty.

Leonard returned to his desk, picking up the padd he’d been reading then putting it down again. He couldn’t sit here and wait for another friend to end up in his care when he had a possible way to fix it..

~~~

“Hey kid, can we talk for a minute?” 

Jim looked up, smile dying as fast as it grew, hands buried in a pile...something technical that Leonard really did not need to know about because it probably meant they were all going to die a little sooner since it wasn’t connecting parts of the ship anymore.

“Sure, Bones,” Jim replied somberly, matching Leonard’s mood. He dropped the snarl of wire and other things, striding to his ready room, trusting Leonard to follow. Leonard swallowed and shook himself mentally. It was time.

“Oh, Spock,” Jim exclaimed mildly, raising a hand to greet Spock who was already sitting at the table, typing something into the computer console. “Do you mind? I need to talk to Leonard.”

“No need,” Leonard interrupted as he locked the door. “Spock knows part of it already.”

Spock stiffened and turned to give Leonard his full attention. “Doctor?”

Leonard attempted a smile, “I’m going to tell him.” He looked away, unable to stand the Vulcan’s piercing gaze, afraid he’d say more than he wanted. “Plus, I have an idea on how to prevent another Scotty situation.”

“Is that so.” Spock’s tone was flat.

“ _ Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir _ .” Leonard said.

“I know that,” Jim said slowly, obviously trying to remember what the translation, “better safe than sorry.” He smiled at Leonard’s look of surprise. “An ex taught me some French,” he explained.

“Perhaps a more literal translation would serve better in this instance,” Spock said, who still hadn’t looked away from Leonard.

“It’s better to prevent than heal,” Leonard translated, feeling Mimi’s hand in his, remembering the first time she explained the meaning for their family on that hot summer day, sitting in the creaking porch swing, kicking his feet out so his toes would catch the light as they swung forward. Leonard cleared his throat and refocused on Jim.

“The Mara must be captured and I think I know how to do it.”

“The what now?” Jim asked incredulously.

“The Mara, Jim. The reason why so morale has been low, why we’ve all been sleeping poorly, the cause for Scotty’s bizarre behavior.” Leonard swallowed, threw a prayer into the wind, and confessed.

"I'm not just a doctor, Jim. I'm a practitioner.” Leonard swallowed hard and forced it out, ”of Voodoo."

On second thought, Leonard should have brought a camera to capture the look on Jim's face, he thought, grimmly amused by the slackjawed look on Jim’s face.

“Really, Captain,” Spock said, tone flat yet oddly chiding at the same time, ”surely Humans are aware that there is a subset of their race who carry active psionic abilities.”

Jim closed his mouth and glanced over at him. “Sure Spock, but it’s one thing to know that somewhere out there, Humans can access that part of their brain and  _ something else to know your best friend has been hiding that skill. _ ”

Leonard flinched as Jim sat down heavily, staring at him like he’d never seen him before, anger and betrayal fighting for dominance on his face. Leonard turned away, facing the window so he didn’t have to watch the revulsion and fear set in like it had back in Georgia. Why had he confessed? Hadn’t he damned himself enough?

They sat for a time in silence. Leonard found himself slipping into a welcomed numbness, staring out into the space between the stationary stars, unable to hold on to the terror that had taken hold as he walked to the bridge from his office.

Maybe Spock had been wrong.

Maybe Jocelyn had been right.

“Are you ever going to look at me?”

Leonard twitched violently, Jim’s voice loud and piercing through the fuzz in his ears.

“Please look at me,” Jim begged, quieter.

Leonard owed it to his closest friend to face what him, even if it was harder than facing a table full of lawyers and later the judge, stone in his stomach as they read their verdict and he lost everything that still mattered in a single sentence.

He moved to face Jim and he saw - 

Jim. Sadder and more serious than he’d seen him in a long time, something like heartbreak in his tear-brightened eyes.

“Oh, Bones,” Jim murmured, “don’t look at me like that.”

He stood abruptly and walked over to Leonard, pulling him roughly into a hug before Leonard could think of a reply.

“I’m sorry that you thought you had to hide it.” He could feel Jim’s hand fisting in the material of his shirt, pulling in a new way. He sniffed and his voice shifted, dry, “I’m a little upset that you haven’t already told me.”

“Leonard holds a mistaken belief that his ability is a source of embarrassment and therefore should be hidden,” Spock cut in, “instead of a rare skill to be celebrated and utilized as needed.”

Leonard glanced over at Spock as Jim’s embrace tightened even further. Spock slipped him a tiny smile.

“Well that’s dumb.” Jim pulled back, hands sliding to a rest on Leonard’s arm, smile soft, eyes crinkling and kind, “Bones, you told me about your father. This can’t have been any worse.”

Leonard stared at him. What?

“It seems we have finally found a way to quiet the doctor,” Spock said drawing Leonard’s gaze.

He opened his mouth to reply and floundered.

“It seemed so, Mr. Spock,” Jim teased.

Leonard almost couldn’t believe it. It was one thing for Spock to accept it. He was all Vulcan when it came to this stuff, logical and data-centered. But Jim. Jim grew up on Earth.

“You’re not mad? Angry? Scared?” Leonard looked down at the hand touching him. “Repulsed? I don’t sicken you?”

“No,” Jim said, looking truly angry for the first time, brows drawing together a he scowled and hugged him again. “Someone really said that to you?”

Leonard hid his face in Jim’s neck and nodded.

“Oh, Bones,” Jim said sorrowfully, an echo of his words vibrating in Leonard’s own chest as he spoke.

Something about it tightened his chest even as it loosened his frozen stance, allowing him to hesitantly return the embrace.

“You might drive me crazy with your sneaky hypos but nothing you could do would make me feel scared or sick. Nothing like that.” Jim spoke fiercely.

And like that Leonard believed him.

The relief that filled him pushed that tightness up into his throat, a blackened choking feeling aching to be released.

Leonard cleared his throat and let go, blinking furiously. He waited until he was seated before gruffly starting, “So. The Enterprise has an unintended passenger. We think it’s similar to that dikronium thing from Tycho IV, except instead of feeding on red corpuscles from Human blood, this one is feeding on Human adrenaline. Spock here was also affected because his adrenal system is not fully Vulcan and retains enough similarity to his Human side that the creature was able to feed off him as well.”

Jim paled. “You said you think you know how to get rid of it?”

Leonard snorted, “I have a half baked idea based on superstition, mythology, and more than a little supposition.”

Jim grinned. “That sounds a lot like a plan I’d come up with. Continue.”

“The basic idea is to capture it based on the similarities in the different stories I’ve found based on the Mara, meaning death in Sanskrit, also commonly called a night hag in English Germanic folklore.” Leonard tapped on the console in front of him and pulled up some of his research on the main screen. “Like I said the creature is drawn to adrenaline. Basically, I want to lure it into a trap and capture it. From what I’ve read, only the light of the sun in our solar system can truly destroy it. I used an altered Voodoo protection spell to save Uhura when she was comatose. I can’t do that for everyone but I have another idea to catch it - sort of like a spider web.”

He looked at Spock. “I’ll need your help, Spock. You’re the fastest runner of those who have been targeted.”

Spock nodded. “Then I am the logical choice.”

Leonard turned to Jim. “I’ll need some time to prepare.”

Jim nodded decisively, “I trust you. Do what you need.” He checked the time on the console and cursed. “I need to check on the repairs. We only - “

The lights flickered on and the ship shuddered as the engines restarted.

“Well look at that,” Jim exclaimed, jumping up. “Things are looking up.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for gore

Leonard took a deep breath. "Ready, Spock?”

Spock offered an arm. “Yes, doctor.”

Leonard reached out. Hesitated. “Go over it one more time.” His hand was sweaty, slipping on the hypo.

Spock looked down at him, calm, “Once you administer the hypo, I will run according to the directions you’ve identified and draw the creature towards me. I will complete the course three times before leading it to Medbay where you will take over and trap it.”

He didn’t mention the million ways the plan could wrong from Spock’s heart succumbing to the increased strain to the wards failing or Leonard fumbling the transfer.

Leonard nodded and wiped his hand dry on his shirt. “Okay. Here we go.” He placed the cylinder against Spock's arm and pressed the release button.

Spock shuddered. A hand flew out and Leonard grabbed it, steadying him as he adjusted to the sudden influx of the hormone. Leonard brought two fingers up to the wildly pulsing vein in front of him, barely brushing against it before Spock was straightening up, and moving away.

"I will return in approximately 23 minutes, doctor. Please be prepared." Leonard blinked and he was gone, the first bait in a multilayered trap, red yarn unraveling behind him.

Leonard's own heart was racing as he prepared his own hypo, a fine tremor working its way through his arms and into his fingers. He dropped it twice before it was filled. The first step done, he moved quickly, walking down the hall, walking past doors adorned with small mirrors and streaks of the paste he'd prepared - reeking of oil and refuse and cinnamon and blood - until he reached his own quarters.

The room was nearly unrecognizable, empty except for the red yarn tied in intricate knots looping around the edges of the room. The overhead lights had been changed to cast blackish-blue light down onto the partial circle on the floor sketched in glowing granules. He wrinkled his nose as he settled on the floor inside it, the smell burning his nostrils.

Then he got up to check the placement mirror on the inside of the door. Again.

"Pull yourself together, man," Leonard whispered to himself.

He settled back down, the clock pointing out that he had 10 minutes left to reach the meditative state he needed for the transfer. He dropped more quickly than he was comfortable with, forcing his fingers to uncurl and rest softly on his knees, eyes closing, shoulders relaxing, imagining all the tension in his body - the chaos in his heart and head - sliding down and off of him to sink into the metal of the ship’s skeleton. He drifted in the still silence of his head for a moment, the last, truly calm moment he’d have until the Mara was defeated, then breathed in deep. With each slow exhale he pushed his consciousness out further, searching for Spock. He found him circling the Engine room, mind vibrant, stride tireless and swift. Leonard breathed in again, a vague discomfort wiggling through him as he pushed them to accept as much air as possible.

Then he exhaled, French flowing from his lips. Leonard repeated it again and again, pushing it through the web Spock was traveling The spell grew, each repetition wrapping an eager tendril of power around it, each thud of Spock’s feet hammering it into place. He followed Spock’s progress to the brig, stiffening as his mind brushed across a trail of sharp focus.

The Mara had caught the scent.

And it was gaining on Spock. Too quickly.

Leonard wanted to jump up and shove his way into its view, distract it from his friend. Something ground beneath his palm and he opened his eyes, cursing quietly when he realized he had ruined a section of the line. Fingernails scraped the floor, sending a shudder up his spine as he fixed it before hastily throwing himself to the Mara, shaken. He’d stopped chanting.

Leonard resumed and the spell grew. He dropped further into the spell, wrapping it around himself, focus narrowing to the sparkling thread he was feeding, spinning out from Spock’s heels, widening until he could feel the bones of the ship, the empty spaces between its heart and brain and bones and veins pushing oxygen through his skin and toward the people he was protecting. His core was hot and heating further still as he struggled to warm the edges of his body, chilled by the vast dark and cold around him that he’d been entrusted to traverse. He set his sails towards his birthplace, the place He’d never forget how to travel to and, with a happy thrum, created his own wind, moving gracefully in the space between the stars. Satisfaction thrummed through Him. The ships of old couldn’t do what he could.

And still, Spock ran.

The Vulcan was close, that much was true. But so was the Intruder feeding on his passengers. He shifted angrily and the floor behind Spock warped, lights flickering.

The Intruder paused, searching for the source. He clenched his hand and a panel in the ceiling dropped through it.

Spock dashed into another small part of Himself (Turbolift a voice whispered from a far off corner of himself), leaning against the wall, breath sharp and fast as that part dropped through layers. After a moment the Vulcan straightened again as the movement slowed.

“Deck Seven.” He announced cooly, opening, and Spock was running down the hall again, approaching the small, warm part of Him.

But the Intruder was following again, moving through the bits of him in a way no other passenger could. No part of Him moved as it flew (doors that bit of him whispered) and although He could sense it, He could not touch it.

The last barrier between Spock and the small, warm part of Him slid open. He focused on that. The Intruder could wait for a moment.

“Doctor.” Spock was next to the small, warm part and shaking it.

He did not understand why Spock would so that.

Then Spock reached up.

Leonard gasped as he slid back into his skin, Spock’s fingers tearing his mind away from the ship. He listed, brain scrambling to make sense of the feeling shooting through his limbs, his skin, his lips, his nose, senses on overload, but Spock grabbed him roughly and shook him again.

“Doctor,” Spock said insistently. “You must complete the transfer.”

Leonard’s head was spinning but he forced himself up again.  _ For the Enterprise _ , he thought.

“The hypo,” he managed, tongue thick and numb, “my arm.”

Spock jammed the hypo into his arm and Leonard felt every single microdermal needle jump and push the adrenaline into his body. His half-formed curse cut off abruptly as his chest seized up, throat crushing itself closed and calves cramping.

“Leonard!” Spock exclaimed, but Leonard couldn’t answer.

_ He was burning and the Mara was here. _

It filled up the room. Invisible to his Human eyes but overwhelming nonetheless. The bit of him still tied to the ship could see it, a roiling mass of claws and bones and feathers and glass shards and sand, creating a red, gaping maw. Leonard could feel it, laid open as he was. There was no Human-like sentience in it. Only hunger and need.

Such horrible, endless hunger.

_ No wonder it was feeding on so many us _ , Leonard thought wildly as he pushed Spock to the side, towards the second hypo. Spock grabbed it and stabbed it into his thigh with a hiss.

The Mara’s attention jumped to Leonard a moment later, as he became the more tasty treat filled with the chemical it craved.

“Come and get it, you bastard!” Leonard cried. The door slid open and shut again as Spock left, winding the yarn around his hand as he went.

The Mara moved, frantic movement slowing, almost tentative as it lengthened. Leonard gritted his teeth, heart pumping too fast, too hard, vision narrowing. The Mara crept closer, and Leonard tipped his face up to it as it reared up over him, hands clenching.

“I bet you can’t say no,” Leonard whispered to it. “Go on. I dare ya.”

A single feather floated down onto his cheek and Leonard’s quarters vanished.

_ “Daddy!” Joanna screamed, a wordless sound filled with agony and fear. _

_ “Joanna!” Leonard’s scream broke as he struggled to free himself, the concrete on his chest growing heavier. “Jo baby!” _

_ Her scream fell into a whimper, a few short, sharp breaths, and then Leonard felt her die. _

_ “Jo! JoJO!!!” _

He choked as it descended on him, one of those shards cutting a hot line of pain down his jaw.

_ Jim stood tall, staring at the Klingon that declared his impending death, head held high as the Klingon’s blade swung back. _

_ “You’ll never win,” Jim began as it swung. _

Leonard screamed and -

_ Spock was still on his table, eerily pale, as M’Benga drew a sheet over his face. _

_ Leonard stood there in cuffs, a redshirt on either side as Jim spoke. _

_ “Leonard McCoy, you have been found guilty of murder. You will be confined to the brig until we reach Starfleet headquarters.” _

_ “Jim. Jim, please,” Leonard sobbed, tears falling to mix with the blood on his front. “Jim, you don’t understand!” _

_ His friend, his captain, stopped and, without turning around, said, “do not ever speak to me again.” _

_ Leonard cried out as he was yanked in the other direction. _

Agony radiated from his chest. Leonard struggled to look down, then turned his head and vomited, unable to bear seeing what it had done to reach inside his chest. Hundreds of little tubes of grey colored flesh were wriggling, reaching, digging into his skin.

_ He was tied to a stone in a clearing, nearly naked as an alien approached. _

_ “You’ll find he will be the perfect sacrifice for your ritual.” _

_ Leonard strained and twisted. Uhura stood near his head, smiling. Leonard shuddered. He could see every tooth. _

_ She smiled eagerly, hungrily. Bloodthirsty. “This is for Spock, you bastard,” she taunted, throwing his favorite insult back at him. _

_ He couldn’t look away from her hate-filled eyes. _

_ The knife flashed as she raised it high. It flashed again as it plunged down. _

Every breath was white-hot pain. Leonard didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

_ Scotty spoke against him at trial. _

_ Leonard shook his head. He hadn’t done that. _

_ Chekov couldn’t stand to enter the same room as him or else he’d have done it to. _

_ Sulu stood between him and Jim, face stone still. _

_ Why wouldn’t they look at him> _

_ And Joanna...his little girl sat in the front row, holding tight to Jocelyn’s arm as officer after officer testified, hiding her face every time he looked at her. _

_ Jocelyn was vicious, happily exposing his deepest secret to the world, twisting her discovery into something sick and cruel. _

_ Was he really as horrible as she described? _

Leonard’s hold on the spell faltered and the Mara wrapped itself tighter. Two more spots of pain bloomed on his back.

The nightmares continued, one rolling into the next as he was forced to kill his friends. Or watch them die. Or die by their hand.

_ Joanna stood over Jim, smiling as she used to when they visited the Albuquerque aquarium. _

_ “Do you like my present, daddy?” She asked, covered in blood, eyes flashing in glee as she held out his heart. “It’s everything you wanted.” _

Leonard couldn’t hold it any longer.

_ He blinked and she was repeating her words with Jeffrey’s heart. And Christine’s. And Jaylah’s. _

_ The whole crew lay at her feet and she twirled a blood-soaked hank of hair around an equally bloody finger. _

_ “Thanks for your help, daddy.” She smiled as she plunged her hand into her own chest and handed him her heart, collapsing with that eery smile as he stood there, arms full of still-warm hearts. _

He hoped Spock was out because he couldn’t keep living through these.

He spoke, voice ringing and loud.

“Thrice we’ve met and thrice we’ve fought. Past, present, and future hold us.”

The Mara shrieked. Leonard never felt stupider reciting these ridiculous words. At least no one was watching.

“Thrice you fed. Twice you took. Once I gave. With these we are bound.”

The Mara was shrinking rapidly in front of him, pulled beneath his skin. Really stupid, he thought giddily, vision swirling as the Mara filled his eyes.

“Thrice we met and thrice we fought. In the stars we met. In the dark we fed. In the light we rest.”

Leonard could feel the web snapping, rushing towards him like a whip.

"Ha!" Leonard barked a laugh as the Mara wrecked his body, searching for a way out. Then a rib snapped.

"You can't get out," Leonard said, viciously happy as he coughed. "You can't do anything until we reach the sun."

It vibrated and Leonard's heart stuttered. The spell was almost complete. All he needed to do was stay awake until it arrived.

Leonard closed his eyes, picturing Christine working beside him, trading barbs and jokes. He thought of the first time anyone heard Jaylah sing and her look of shy pleasure as Gaila jumped her, excitedly insisting she join the band. He remembered standing shoulder to shoulder with Spock, gleefully ganging up on him, corralling him into bedrest and talking to one of the psychiatrists after the Karidian incident. He recalled the shouting, and later, smiles Jim shot at him as he healed.

The Mara was still fighting.

He could see them all again, constellations on his consciousness as he threw himself wide again for a final moment as the spell hurtled shut.

“Oh, this is going to hurt,” Leonard whispered as the circle closed.

The second trap snapped shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone catch what the red yarn is alluding to?


	5. Epilogue, or the second ending for those who don't like ambiguous first endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the epilogue is specifically for readers who cannot stand the ending of ch 4 which strongly suggests that Leonard may have died
> 
> so, if you want a happier ending, here it is

Leonard’s nose itched.

He tried to scratch it. Something bound his wrist down.

It itched so bad.

“Leonard?” Christine’s voice floated above him.

The itch was hurting now.

“Ungh.” Leonard wiggled his nose.

He heard a swish of clothing.

“Jeffrey!” she shouted away from him, “Jeffrey, he’s waking up!”

Leonard grunted again, and opened dry eyes, squinting at the bright lights in the room.

“You gave us a scare, mister,” Christine said sternly, harsh tone undercut by the tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth to continue but his eyes were so heavy and he was slipping away again.

***

The next time he woke, Jim was reading an honest to God paper book, voice hardly any louder than his breathing.

“...to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure...”

***

After a plethora of tests, including a rather embarrassing one where Leonard had to prove his mental fitness by passing the Flash Test Of Useless Knowledge, as he liked to call it, and a complete physical where he had to attempt jumping jacks with noodley legs, he was cleared to finish convalescing in his personal quarters.

Scotty, oddly enough was the member of security who answered Christine's comm, face reddening as he nearly incoherently stammered that he was glad to see him up and about, escorting him to his door and giving him a quick, stiff embrace before pushing him down onto his bed and ordering him to stay in bed until someone came to check on him.

***

It took the first time he stepped on the bridge after being declared fit to resume duty for him to feel truly free of the Mara and the nightmares that plagued him for weeks after he woke.

It was something about the doors opening and him stepping up to stand beside Spock, leaning resting am elbow on the back of Jim's chair, and Spock not-smiling at him as he slapped a hand on Jim's shoulder and said it was time for a full physical.

It was how Spock made an insanely wrong statement about Leonard using a voodoo doll to make Jim go to his exam and how he tried to bottle his ire before caving and setting Spock right with several mild(ish) insults when Jim began to chuckle.

It was the way he looked up and saw the rest of the bridge crew smiling, Chekov wiping away a tear, and Uhura passing by, running a hand across his shoulders and saying, "welcome back, hon," on her way to another part of the room.

It was the way Leonard took a deep, painless breath and felt the warm regard of his family as they received new orders and set course to their next adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't decide how to portray the whole "what happened, why am I still alive" scene so I left it out.
> 
> Basically, the info from that deleted conversation is where Spock and Jim sit Leonard down, tell him they're happy he's alive, sad that he lied about the spell, and scared for him while they were figuring out how to save him and destroy the Mara simultaneously by launching it into the Earth sun.

**Author's Note:**

> There are two more installments. One is in the editing process and the other is outlined. I hope to have it done by December!  
>    
> P.S. please appreciate the amount of research I have put into this. The information in this story had been slightly fictionalized but remains 95-98% accurate. I hope you can catch the 10+ myths I wove into this.


End file.
